Garden Grove, California. In 1888, Garden Grove was a small farming community not far from Santa Ana City. Although the local land speculation boom had collapsed, advertisements still touted the area (especially the nearby Santa Ana Valley) and promised ample supplies of water and bumper crops of fine fruits, grain, and alfalfa for those willing to invest.

Despite the area’s general prosperity, many, including editorialists in local Los Angeles newspapers, were concerned about the recent uptick in crime, including murder – caused, they believed, by criminals who were pouring into the state, looking to profit from the recent burst of economic growth Southern California was experiencing. And it was in little Garden Grove, amidst the fruit trees and sunshine, that a husband and wife were brutally murdered.

Here is an excerpt from an article published by the Los Angeles Evening Express on January 27th, 1888, describing the couple and their lives in Garden Grove:

There came to Garden Grove, a little agricultural town about five miles north of the city of Santa Ana, Charles B. Hitchcock and his wife. They arrived there about eight years ago from Illinois. They reached the place they had selected as their permanent abiding place in affluent circumstances. Genial, yet business-like, affable, courteous, a typical gentleman, Mr. Hitchcock made a legion of friends, not only in the flower-embowered little hamlet, but throughout that portion of the county. His wife was a handsome, stately, and splendidly accomplished matron, and like her husband, made friends of all who came in contact with her.

According to the Express, upon their arrival, the Hitchcocks had purchased a small 20-acre fruit farm on good fertile land. It was a big spread, with a house and barns, and they did well financially, managing to save a nice sum of money. Charles, aged 35, and his wife Lois, 34, were popular as well, engaging in many social activities with neighbors.

By January of 1888, however, they were looking to sell their property. The papers do not state the reason, but the farm was put up for sale. As they sought a buyer, it happened that a well- dressed twenty-three-year-old German man named Frederick Anschlag had recently arrived in Santa Ana. He was in the market to buy an orchard.

The Los Angeles Times described him as a middle-sized man, with dark-brown eyes, a smooth face, and little knowledge of the English language. When his real estate agent, Mr. W. A. Beckett, showed Anschlag the Hitchcock farm on January 10th, he immediately fell in love with the place. It was both comfortable and move-in ready, which Anschlag explained was important to him because he would soon be wed and wanted things to be perfect for his new bride.

He spent some time with the Hitchcocks, and their conversation evidently went well, because later that night, after a drive back to Santa Ana, Anschlag (comfortable with the sale price of $8,000) handed Mr. Beckett a $25 deposit to prove his interest. The next day, he told the real estate agent that he would sign whatever paperwork was necessary to seal the deal.

However, when morning came, and then afternoon and evening, Anschlag was nowhere to be found. He had departed for Anaheim, unbeknownst to everyone involved. Five days later, he finally returned, riding directly to the Hitchcock farm. There, without the knowledge of Mr. Beckett, he told the Hitchcocks that he would definitely purchase the place, and to further demonstrate his commitment, he left them another $70.

He then traveled back to Santa Ana, and on the ride there, he must have had second thoughts, because when he pulled into town, he went straight to Mr. Beckett and told him that he did not want the Hitchcock farm after all. He also asked Beckett to start showing him more properties.

The following day, they went out and looked at a number of places, but Anschlag was dissatisfied with them all. On the way back to Santa Ana, he told Beckett that he would, in fact, take the Hitchcock property – and that was his final decision.

“Let’s meet tomorrow afternoon,” Anschlag told him, “to finalize things.”

The next day, Mr. Beckett rode out to the Hitchcock farm to congratulate them on the news, and was shocked to hear from the Hitchcocks that Anschlag had visited them without telling him and had given them the $70. Mr. Beckett returned to Santa Ana to find Anschlag and ask him, one assumes, what the heck was going on? But to his chagrin, he was informed that Anschlag had departed the city and gone back to Anaheim, without a return date.

A week later, on January 21st, Anchlaug moseyed into Santa Ana and told an acquaintance that he was headed out to the Hitchcocks to buy the property. On his way to Garden Grove, he happened to run into Charles Hitchcock on the road and told him,

“This is it. I want the farm, once and for all.”

Hitchcock, no doubt relieved that this would soon be over, offered to fetch the abstract of title to the farm and then procure the deed and have it notarized. Anschlag went back to his hotel while Hitchcock prepared the documents, eventually rejoining Anschlag when finished. Anschlag then informed Hitchcock of his bad news: he had expected money to come in, but it had not yet, and probably would not arrive until Monday.

“If it is alright,” he said, “I’d like to go out to the farm with you tonight.”

Hitchcock agreed, and the two drove to Garden Grove together, spending the night, all day Sunday, and Sunday night as guests of the couple.

On Monday, January 23rd, Lois Hitchcock left her husband and Anschlag at the farm to go into town and meet some friends. While in town, she happened to run into Mr. Beckett, who asked if they had heard from Anschlag.

“Yes,” she told him. “He is at the house, and we are coming to see you tomorrow. It will all be finalized then.”

On the morning of Tuesday, January 24th, Beckett waited at his office for Hitchcock and Anschlag. He was joined by Mr. Sunderman, who Beckett had previously used as an interpreter when dealing with Anschlag. It remains unclear how the Hitchcocks had communicated with Anschlag directly during earlier interactions, but it seems likely that both parties had learned enough of each other’s language to communicate at least rudimentarily.

Sunderman told Beckett that he had seen Anschlag outside, driving Hitchcock’s wagon alone. The horses were covered with foam and looked as though they had been severely mistreated, and the wagon was splattered with mud. But Anschlag was still intent on making the appointment. He walked into Beckett’s office and sat down. Beckett, through Sunderman, asked the German where Charles Hitchcock was.

“I dunno, somewhere,” he answered.

With no Charles Hitchcock available to complete the business, Anschlag explained to Beckett what he was doing with Hitchcock’s wagon. He had hired a local laborer, Anton Decker, to help him with some tasks at the farm. This, of course, was suspicious. Anschlag did not know where Hitchcock was, yet he was using his wagon and horses. Beckett and Sunderman watched as Anschlag and Decker got into the wagon and drove down the street. They were later seen loading a trunk into the wagon, and then driving out of Santa Ana on the road to Garden Grove. For some reason, neither Beckett nor Sunderman found Anschlag’s behavior concerning enough to warrant a follow.

As Tuesday rolled on, no one had heard from or seen the Hitchcocks. The person who grew most concerned was Lucia Ann Bradley, Lois Hitchcock’s sick mother, who lived nearby. Her daughter made it a habit to visit her every day, and when she did not show, Mrs. Bradley wondered why. She was not alarmed enough, however, to check on them; they were selling their house, after all, and were probably very busy. By that evening, she visited the Anschlag’s neighbors, the Hills, to ask for their help. Mr. Hill went directly to the farm, and upon arrival found Anschlag and Decker working outside. He asked them where the Hitchcocks were, and Anschlag replied that they had gone into Santa Ana earlier that morning. Hill returned to his house, and he and other neighbors gathered together, discussed the strange situation, and agreed something should be done, sending for Constable Finley.

On Wednesday morning, Constable Finley, along with Mr. Beckett, went to the Hitchcock farm. They found Anschlag outside and demanded to know where the couple was. Anschlag appeared nervous and told a shaky story about giving the Hitchcocks the money for the property the evening before, and then taking them to Santa Ana, where they caught the first train out of town. He added that they had specifically told him not to tell anyone of their departure.

This flimsy answer did not satisfy Constable Finley. He promptly arrested both men and held them in the kitchen while a search party was organized. Neighbors and officers spread across the property, and when no trace of the Hitchcocks was found, they combed the nearby roads. Eventually, one of the searchers, John King, noticed wagon tracks leading to a grove of trees not far from a nearby farm. In the grove was a pile of straw. King kicked at the straw and found freshly turned earth underneath. Others joined him and began digging until, to their dismay, they uncovered the mutilated remains of Charles and Lois Hitchcock.

The bodies were gently removed and transported to the undertaker shop in Santa Ana, where the coroner examined them. Both had been viciously attacked. Mr. Hitchcock’s skull had been crushed in, likely with an axe, while Lois Hitchcock’s head had been bashed so badly it was almost unrecognizable. The legs of each victim were tied together. Examination of the wagon at the Hitchcock farm revealed blood inside, more than enough to arrest the men.

Almost immediately, angry citizens gathered, and talk of lynching spread. Constable Finley gathered a posse and rode off with his prisoners to Anaheim. Still, the departure did not placate the growing mob, and the Anaheim sheriff’s department smuggled the men out of the county jail, stashing them in the cellar of a local business.

Meanwhile, police wasted no time questioning Anschlag, but he did not admit to anything. He claimed he and Charles Hitchcock had amiably agreed on a price, that he had handed Hitchcock the balance early that Tuesday morning, and that was it. Nothing suspicious, he insisted – it had been a pleasant, straightforward business transaction.

Even with the threat of mob violence hanging over the sheriff’s department, reporters were still allowed access to Anschlag. One German-speaking reporter visited him in his cell and began asking questions with the sheriff’s permission.

“Had you committed the murders?”

At first, Anschlag denied slaughtering the Hitchcocks, voicing repulsion at even the thought. But the reporter pressed the issue.

“You might as well tell me the truth, Anschlag. The evidence against you is overwhelming, and if you confess, your mind will be at rest. At least you will feel better. There is no use in denying it. They have found the hatchet, and your clothes covered with blood were found in a clump of bushes where you hid them after you hit Hitchcock and his wife on the head and killed them.”

According to the Express, Anschlag began to shake at the accusation. When asked again to confess, he finally broke:

“Yes, I killed Hitchcock and his wife. And now I do not know what will become of me. Oh my God! My God! What will be my fate!”

The reporter, remaining composed, asked him how he committed the crime. Anschlag continued:

“Yes, I killed Hitchcock and his wife. On Monday night, they concluded to go to Santa Ana and asked me if I would drive them there. I consented. About 5 o’clock we started for Santa Ana. Before starting I went in the yard, procured a hatchet, and placed it in the bed of the wagon. Hitchcock drove, and his wife was seated next to him. After we had ridden a little way from the farm, I picked up the hatchet and with all my force struck Hitchcock on the head, splitting it wide open, and then struck his wife in the head and jaw. The two fell and were dead in a few minutes. I grabbed the lines from the man’s hands, drove a mile or so further, and stopped the team. I did not know what to do with the bodies, so I turned around, got a spade from the ranch, and then drove about three miles distant. I dug a hole, bound the hands and legs of the dead people, threw them into the hole, and covered them up with dirt, and then threw straw on the grave so anyone passing would not notice the ground had been newly broken. I then went to Santa Ana, where I got Decker, and then drove back home.”

After finishing, Anschlag lay down on his cot and began to cry. Once he collected himself, he returned to the reporter:

“Why did you bind your victims’ hands and feet together with ropes?”

“I tied their hands and feet together so they would not be so clumsy to handle. In doing so, they would not take up so much room and it would save me trouble in digging a larger hole. Also, if the bodies should be found, people would be led to believe they were murdered at some distant point and then brought back and interred. Before I visited Santa Ana, after I had murdered the Hitchcocks, I went back to the farm and changed my clothing. I washed the blood off the hatchet, threw it into the wagon again, and then took my bloody clothes and hid them under a bush in the field. I did not think anyone would find them, or at least, I did not think they would be looked for in a place of that kind.”

He explained further:

“I never had $8,000 in my life. I killed Hitchcock and his wife to get the deed of the ranch because I wanted the property. Oh, what will people say? My poor sister, you I love so dearly. It will almost kill you. The disgrace I have caused my family in Europe is terrible. How am I going to get out of this trouble? I want a good lawyer, the best in the city. You go out and get me one, will you? I told my people at home when I started for America that I was going to make a fortune for them and would be the pride of their hearts. Now look what I have done, after making such a promise. Disgrace! Disgrace! Oh my God! Help me out of this! What shall I do? What shall I do?”

After calming down, he told the reporter that Anton Decker had nothing to do with the murders. As the reporter withdrew from the cell, Anschlag made one final plea:

“Goodbye. Come and see me again. Get me a lawyer. Do not tell anyone that I have told you that I killed the Hitchcocks, and if anybody asks you if I did it, tell them no. That I am innocent. I want a lawyer that can speak German so I can talk to him in confidence.”

Of course, the reporter did not keep Anschlag’s confession secret. Later that day, Anschlag was brought into a local courtroom and charged with murder.

In February, his trial commenced, with Anton Decker now a witness for the prosecution. While Decker had initially been suspected of complicity, it was later believed that he had been unaware of Anschlag’s machinations and had simply been hired to work on the farm. Anschlag’s attorney attempted to prove him insane, citing a previous head injury from a ladder fall and a serious illness from inhaling coal gas, but the strategy failed.

One of the more startling revelations was from Dr. E.H. Head, who testified that the bodies of the Hitchcocks had been drenched in carbolic acid when discovered in their shallow burial place. With overwhelming evidence, a self-confession, and public sentiment against him, Anschlag was found guilty of first-degree murder. After only sixteen minutes of jury deliberation, he was sentenced to death by hanging.

During his imprisonment, Anschlag secretly attempted to escape by loosening the mortar around the bars in his cell window. He had even fashioned a crude rope from window cords and shoelaces. However, he was caught by the jailer before he could attempt escape, and security was tightened.

His execution was set for November 16, 1888. In the weeks leading up to it, Anschlag spent time reading the Bible, visiting with a minister, and singing German hymns. He also admitted to his minister that he had committed a third murder months before killing the Hitchcocks. On September 1, 1887, he had been hunting with a local farmer, Julius Feugh, and a friend outside Bangor, California. Anschlag and his friend had plotted to murder Feugh for his supposed wealth. After walking out into an open field, looking for game, Anschlag waited for the right moment and shot Feugh in the back of the neck, buried him under plowed ground, and then searched his house, finding no money. For proof Anschlag even drew a diagram and gave it to the sheriff, who dispatched deputies to verify the burial location and find the body – just a skeleton after a little more than a year in the soil.

Closer to his execution date, Anschlag made a final confession about the Hitchcock murders, this time with more premeditation. He claimed that he had dined with the Hitchcocks the night of the murders, and had placed a hatchet near the barn door in advance. When Mr. Hitchcock went out to feed the horses and stooped to pick up a lantern, Anschlag struck him three times on the head until he was dead. He then killed Mrs. Hitchcock in the house, striking her first on the top of her head, then again to knock her to the floor. He dragged her to the woodpile, took an axe, and struck her several more times.

He placed straw in the wagon, hitched the horses, and drove two or three miles to bury the bodies, but had forgotten a shovel. On his return to the farm he tried to clean up the blood in the kitchen and barn. He then changed his clothes and buried the bodies, finishing with a thin layer of straw atop their graves. There were no further changes to his story.

The town expected a predictable conclusion: Anschlag would be hanged, and the community would find closure. But there was one final little twist to the story. On the evening of November 14, one of Anschlag’s guards noticed his hands and face twitching. Anschlag told the guard he had a stomach ache, but when the jailer was summoned, he took one look at him and knew he’d been poisoned.

“What have you taken, Fritz?” the jailer asked.

Anschlag said nothing.

“You have poisoned yourself, Fritz. Now tell me the truth.”

“Yes, I have,” Anschlag admitted.

He writhed in terrible agony, his body convulsing uncontrollably. Doctors arrived and forced a rubber tube down his throat, but in a violent spasm he bit through it. His jaws had locked, and a small opening had to be pried with a screwdriver to allow him to breathe. The jailer then placed camphor under his nose, which gave him a momentary relief.

“Where did you get the poison?” someone asked.

Anschlag pointed to a plug of tobacco on the table.

“Tobacco… tobacco,” he muttered.

At half past midnight, Anschlag died. Examination revealed that strychnine had been hidden inside the hollowed-out plug of tobacco, likely smuggled in by fellow inmates to help him cheat the hangman. The poison inflicted prolonged, excruciating agony far worse than the swift death of a hanging would have caused.

Thus ended the life of three-time murderer Frederick Fritz Anschlag. After his death, his cell was searched for a final statement, but none was found.

So, was Frederick Anschlag guilty of murdering Charles and Lois Hitchcock? There’s no doubt in my mind that he was guilty.  The bigger question is why. What drove him, beyond plain old greed? Insecurity seems to sit right at the top of the list. He was terrified of failure and obsessed with how his family back in Germany might see him. That fear says a lot. This wasn’t a typical robbery by some itinerant outlaw; Anschlag actually planned to live on the Hitchcocks’ farm once they were gone. He didn’t want to start from scratch or earn success the hard way – he wanted to skip straight to the part where he could brag about his new life and make himself look like a big success.

How he thought he’d get away with it is pretty astounding, but his narcissism clearly clouded his judgment. He was so wrapped up in proving himself that he couldn’t see how foolish he was being. When he was finally caught, he broke down fast – not because he suddenly felt guilty, but because he couldn’t stand the humiliation of being exposed. Taking strychnine before his hanging was his last desperate attempt to stay in control and avoid public shame. But he wasn’t nearly as clever or worldly as he thought, and his ignorance about the poison’s horrible effects only made his end more miserable. In the end, Anschlag was destroyed by the same mix of pride, fear, and arrogance that led him to kill in the first place.

If you wish to visit the graves of Charles and Lois Hitchcock, they rest under the same marker at Anaheim Cemetery in Anaheim, Orange County, California.

References

• Los Angeles Evening Express, January 27, 1888, p. 5.
• Los Angeles Evening Express, January 28, 1888, p. 5.
• Los Angeles Times, January 27, 1888, p. 4.
• Los Angeles Times, January 28, 1888, p. 4.
• Los Angeles Herald, February 1, 1888, pp. 2, 4.
• San Francisco Examiner, February 14, 1888, p. 4.
• Los Angeles Evening Express, February 18, 1888, p. 5.
• Los Angeles Herald, February 19, 1888, p. 2.
• Los Angeles Herald, March 16, 1888, p. 4.
• Los Angeles Evening Express, October 22, 1888, p. 8.
• Los Angeles Evening Express, November 2, 1888, p. 1.
• Los Angeles Evening Express, November 15, 1888, p. 1.
• Los Angeles Herald, November 15, 1888, p. 1.
• Orange County history: http://www.ocalmanac.com/History/hi01d.htm
• Find-A-Grave, Charles and Lois Hitchcock. (Photographs of the Hitchcocks)
• Los Angeles Evening Express, November 15, 1888, p. 1. (Image of Anschlag)